Sliver Of Shadow

Haunting Memory

"Settle down," said Snape coldly, shutting the door behind him. There was no real need for the call to order; the moment the class had heard the door close, quiet had fallen and all fidgeting stopped. Snape's mere presence was usually enough to ensure a class's silence.

Suddenly, the door slammed open, revealing a panting Nico. The class turned in surprise.

"Sorry... I got lost."

Snape raised an eyebrow, but said nothing - not even commenting on Nico's dark muggle attire. Harry gritted his teeth at this obvious display of favor towards Slytherins, but tried to hold his tongue.

After Nico had found a seat in the back of the room, Snape continued.

"Before we begin today's lesson," said Snape, sweeping over to his desk and staring around at them all, "I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an 'Acceptable' in your O.W.L., or suffer my... displeasure."

His gaze lingered this time upon Nico, who looked unimpressed. Snape nodded in approval.

"After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me," Snape went on. "I take only the very best into my N.E.W.T. Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying good-bye."

His eyes rested on Harry and his lip curled. Harry glared back, feeling a grim pleasure at the idea that he would be able to give up Potions after fifth year.

"But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell," said Snape softly, "So whether you are intending to attempt N.E.W.T. or not, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high-pass level I have come to expect from my O.W.L. students.

"Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: If you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing." On Harry's left, Hermione sat up a little straighter, her expression one of the utmost attentiveness. "The ingredients and method" - Snape flicked his wand - "are on the blackboard" - (they appeared there) - "you will find everything you need" - he flicked his wand again - "in the store cupboard" - (the door of the said cupboard sprang open) - "you have an hour and a half... Start."

Snape could hardly have set them a more difficult, fiddly potion. The ingredients had to be added to the cauldron in precisely the right order and quantities; the mixture had to be stirred exactly the right number of times, firstly in clockwise, then in counterclockwise directions; the heat of the flames on which it was simmering had to be lowered to exactly the right level for a specific number of minutes before the final ingredient was added. Strangely, di Angelo seemed to have no problem, adding ingredients and following the instructions with ease.

"A light silver vapor should now be rising from your potion," called Snape, with ten minutes left to go.

Harry, who was sweating profusely, looked desperately around the dungeon. His own cauldron was issuing copious amounts of dark gray steam; Ron's was spitting green sparks. Seamus was feverishly prodding the flames at the base of his cauldron with the tip of his wand, as they had gone out. The surface of Nico's potion, however, was a shimmering mist of silver vapor, and as Snape swept by, he nodded in encouragement.

"Ten points to Mr. Di Angelo, for his exemplar potion."

At Harry's cauldron, however, Snape stopped, looking down at Harry with a horrible smirk on his face.